


The Careful Application of Virtues

by AmbassadorInara



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a bit of a bastard, Bondage, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Dominant Aziraphale, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shibari, Submissive Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbassadorInara/pseuds/AmbassadorInara
Summary: Aziraphale had decided, quite reasonably, that if an excess of hellish behavior was the problem, he should be able to sort Crowley out through the careful application of Virtues.He hid a smirk behind a sip of wine, then leaned over to whisper in the demon’s ear. “You’ve been positively beastly recently, haven’t you? Picking fights? Shouting at me? I think some discipline might do well for you.” His smile grew as he heard Crowley’s breath catch enticingly.This was going to bedelightful.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 333





	1. Prologue

Crowley might be, at heart, just a little bit of a good person, but at this particular moment he was being an absolute menace. Capricious and petty and demanding, even more so than usual. Aziraphale was worried about him, but more than that he was _annoyed_. For the past week, living with him had been literal hell, and their normal methods of dealing with conflict[1] were not helping. So Aziraphale had decided, quite reasonably, that if an excess of hellish behavior was the problem, he should be able to sort Crowley out through the careful application of Virtues. 

A forthright proposal would likely not be well received by his demon counterpart, so he engaged in the sort of creative deception he had become skilled at through their lengthy partnership. 

“How would you feel about playing tonight?” he casually asked over dinner. “I think I might like to tie you up.” 

Even behind dark glasses, Aziraphale could see the demon’s eyes light up. They’d played with bondage a bit before, and both had thoroughly enjoyed it. 

“Might be fun.” Crowley tried to hide his eagerness behind a casual tone, and while others might have been fooled by it, Aziraphale knew better. He wasn’t sure what kind of Effort Crowley was sporting at the moment, but whatever it was, it was most certainly reacting in a very positive manner.

He hid a smirk behind a sip of wine, then leaned over to whisper in the demon’s ear. “You’ve been positively beastly recently, haven’t you? Picking fights and shouting at me? I think some discipline might do well for you.” His smile grew as he heard Crowley’s breath catch enticingly. 

This was going to be _delightful_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 For Aziraphale, this entailed completely denying there was an issue; for Crowley, excessive napping.  [ return to text ]


	2. Patience and Humility

Not an hour later, they were back at their cottage, Crowley hovering expectantly near the stairs. He was getting antsy, but he knew rushing his angel would only make things worse for him later. The twinges of arousal that had started at dinner were getting stronger by the second, and his patience, always in short supply, was now almost gone. He wasn’t sure if he was going to explode with anger, run off in a huff, or go wank in the bathroom, but whatever was going to happen, it was definitely happening within the next thirty seconds.

“Be a dear and open a bottle of red, won’t you?” Aziraphale asked airily from where he’d settled at his writing desk. Whether it was intentional or not, his request interrupted Crowley’s momentum toward impulsivity and the task helped refocus his roiling energy. Crowley strode into the kitchen and banged about, getting the bottle and glasses and corkscrew, making more noise than was strictly necessary but was satisfying in its own subtle way. He didn’t mean anything by it, he wasn’t upset, just jumpy. Like there was too much demon crammed into too small of a corporation. 

“Take it up to the bedroom and let it aerate, please. I’ll be along in a moment.” Aziraphale’s tone was light, but it was clear he was beginning to take charge of the situation. Crowley felt himself get wetter. HIs arousal had been on such a hairtrigger recently, he’d found it much easier to simply change his configuration than deal with a large erection in ridiculously tight jeans. And he quite enjoyed having a vagina, especially like this when he could feel its secretive arousal making everything slick with desire.

Aziraphale returned to his task, writing neat script in a leather notebook. He didn’t even look up to see Crowley’s response to his request, but he didn’t have to. They both knew he would obey. The only question was whether he was going to be snarky about it. He did briefly consider a few smart remarks, but the promise of adventurous sex was enough of a motivation for him to keep his mouth shut, and he brought the wine upstairs quietly. If he had known the small, satisfied smile that provoked in his angel, he might have made a different choice, but Aziraphale had prudently waited until his back was turned.

Crowley’s jumpiness returned as soon as his task was complete, and he channeled it into pacing the bedroom impatiently. He debated taking his clothes off or getting out the ropes, just to do _something_ to hurry this along. But he knew better. Aziraphale enjoyed the process, and if he was being honest, he did, too. It was just so bloody frustrating. ( _Don’t you want me, angel?_ ) He tried very hard not to think about what the angel could be doing down there that was more important than fucking him, because that line of reasoning never led anywhere good. But the longer he waited, the harder it was to keep his thoughts from spiraling.

* * *

Aziraphale heard Crowley’s footfalls speed up on the floor above his head, and knew it was almost time to join him. He neatly added the word “pacing” to his notes. He then placed a checkmark next to the word “patience,” before closing the leather journal and slipping it back into the ether. He slowly headed up the stairs, allowing a floorboard to creak to alert Crowley to his approach.

When he entered the bedroom, Crowley was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs folded up underneath himself, as if he hadn’t been manically pacing just moments earlier. He watched hungrily as Aziraphale took off his jacket and hung it neatly in his mostly-empty side of the closet. By the time he finished rolling up his shirtsleeves, Crowley was practically drooling. He was actually a bit surprised that the foul fiend hadn’t tried to rush him yet. He knew exactly what this scandalous display of forearms was doing to him, and was enjoying getting to play the part of the tease for a moment.

He let the anticipation build, pouring himself a glass of wine. It hadn’t had nearly enough time to rest yet, but a little miracle took care of that. He wasn’t going to make Crowley wait that long. He wasn’t _cruel_. Not this early in the evening, anyway. 

He took his glass to one of the two armchairs, a midcentury modern compromise that had both sleek lines and plush cushions, and relaxed into it. “How are you feeling?” he asked. 

“Good. Great. Ready to go when you are.” Crowley’s words were clipped. He was practically radiating anticipation. 

Aziraphale chuckled. “You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to yet.” 

“What, tying me up and having your way with me? Sounds pretty great. Let’s do it.” Crowley flashed him a charmingly flirtatious grin. 

“Anything off the table tonight? Pain? Humiliation?”

“Nothing we haven’t already talked about.” 

It was a short list, but Aziraphale had dutifully documented it in his notebook regardless. “Alright then. Up you get. Clothes off and wings out, please.” Crowley grinned wickedly as he rose and started peeling off his shirt in the most sensuous manner possible. He enjoyed the attention, and Aziraphale didn’t mind the delay. Let him get his wiggles out now, because he would be tied up most securely the rest of the night.

Aziraphale leaned back and sipped his wine as he watched, and allowed ardent approval to show on his face. He reveled in being able to simply _look_ at his demon: unabashedly, greedily, possessively. This beautiful otherworldly creature performing a silent striptease just for him - it was thrilling and humbling and deeply arousing. He would never tire of watching Crowley’s lithe, serpentine body wriggle out of his too-tight jeans, and felt certain Crowley would never tire of it, either.

Crowley peeled off his sopping lace thong and offered it to Aziraphale with a cheeky, lopsided grin. He demurred with a gesture, and Crowley disappeared it along with the rest of his discarded clothes. He approached Aziraphale slowly, temptingly, pulling on the angel's cock with every soft sway of his hips. Aziraphale was prepared to decline a lap dance as Crowley neared, but that wasn’t what the demon was after. Instead, he gracefully pulled out his wings, and, with only a moment’s hesitation, sank to his knees at Aziraphale’s feet.

The sudden transition from ridiculous performance to this display of devotion was almost too much for Aziraphale to bear. A flood of conflicting emotions, from pure love to absolute terror, filled his eyes. Crowley - bratty, insolent, rebellious Crowley, who wouldn’t even kneel for the Almighty Herself - was offering himself up. Head bowed, wings resting on the floor. A gift of trust that Aziraphale was quite certain he did not deserve, but could never refuse.

Crowley couldn’t stay still for long, and peeked up when he didn’t get a response. His golden eyes widened as he saw Aziraphale’s wet lashes. It was apparently not the reaction he was expecting.

“I’m sorry, love.” Aziraphale murmured as he retrieved a handkerchief. “I got a bit overwhelmed.” 

“’s ok.” Crowley replied. His eyes were glistening a bit, too. “You all right to keep going?”

Aziraphale smiled down at him, committing the image to memory. Flashes of flame surrounded by shimmering shadows, raw power channeled into a single purpose. A perfect picture of a love that had clawed its way out of hell to make a home here, together. He was overcome by the urge to simply give - give Crowley everything he could ever desire, devoting his life to making the demon feel as loved as he felt in this moment. But what Crowley wanted - no, needed - right now was for him to do exactly what he promised.

“Quite. Let’s get you all tied up.”

* * *

Crowley settled into the opposite armchair as requested, listening to Aziraphale rummaging in a drawer behind him. He tried to keep his anticipatory squirming to a minimum. He knew enough about what might happen tonight to be extremely excited, but little enough to still be desperately curious.

Aziraphale returned with bundles of soft black rope and knelt on the floor, spreading them out in front of him. He made no move to unwind them. Instead, he held his hands out over the bundles, causing the air to shimmer. He looked particularly angelic like this, bathed in golden light, almost as if he were praying...

Fuck. He was _blessing_ them. 

“Your arm, please.” It was polite, but it was not a request. Crowley extended his left arm obligingly. Aziraphale didn’t start with the ropes. Instead, he gently massaged Crowley’s arm from wrist to shoulder, banishing all tension. He relaxed into the angel’s touch, closing his eyes. He could just let his mind drift a bit, he was safe here with his partner.

A bite at his wrist shocked him out of his reverie, and he jerked his hand back instinctively. The blessed rope didn’t _hurt_ exactly, but it did cause a nasty shock that intensified as Aziraphale roughly pulled his arm back into place. 

“None of that, now,” he chided. “I can’t have you miracling them loose.” 

He was right. Even though it was only a weak blessing, it prevented Crowley from being able to grab hold of the ropes with his infernal magic. It felt like they didn’t even exist. He supposed he could escape by magicking himself away, leaving the ropes behind, but there was a distinct possibility that he might also leave behind whatever had already been tied down. He briefly considered testing out his theory, but losing a hand would probably end any possibility of sex for the evening and he had no desire to risk it. He’d experiment with it later.[1]

Aziraphale had almost finished winding the ropes in an intricate diamond pattern up his arm when the sting of holiness started to subside. It wasn’t that the ropes were losing their effectiveness - if anything, they were more powerful the more area they covered - but he’d started to get used to the sensation, a feeling not unlike slowly wading into frigid water.

Aziraphale threw the long loose ends of rope over his shoulder and began the same process with his right arm. He hadn’t secured Crowley’s left to the chair yet, and the pattern of knots left his elbow free to bend. He took the opportunity to stretch it out and admire the handiwork, and wondered where the angel had learned this particular skill. 

He also wondered what the point of all this was, if he could still move his arms freely. That question was answered when Aziraphale began to run the ropes around his chest, behind the chair, and through each elbow, pinning his upper body in place. The loose ends wound in crisscrossing patterns around the back of the chair, looping gently around his folded wings. The angel was careful to keep a hand on Crowley’s skin when he was out of sight, and he was grateful for the grounding presence. 

Within moments his upper body had become completely immobilized. Contact with the blessed fibers caused a heady buzz on his skin, and the sensation was inching closer toward arousal. Aziraphale tugged firmly to tie off the last knot, and then tousled Crowley’s hair affectionately as he got up to fetch another bundle of rope. Crowley moaned softly and tried unsuccessfully to follow his touch. No amount of twisting or slithering caused even the slightest release of his upper body, so he settled for stretching out a long leg and poking Aziraphale with his toes.

He expected the angel to chastise him, or at least bat him out of the way, but instead he settled crosslegged on the floor and took the foot into his lap. He massaged it out the same as he did for his arms, working out tension while carefully avoiding ticklish spots behind the knees. When he finished, he bent Crowley’s leg, propping his heel on the corner of the seat. Crowley often sat like this, his legs refusing to follow social norms, but never without his signature slouching. The enforced perfect posture felt bizarre. 

Aziraphale secured his ankle to his thigh and the armrest, then looped the rope around his hips and the back leg of the chair in a maneuver that seemed especially designed to thwart his serpentine hip movements. As the angel slowly worked his way up the other leg, Crowley admired the artistry of the interlocking lines on his pale skin. What he could see of the latticework was beautiful. He could only imagine what his partner’s view was like, with his legs spread so openly. 

In this position, Crowley couldn’t keep his arousal secret, and his vagina had already started dripping on the seat. He was ready to be thoroughly _fucked_. But Aziraphale barely noticed, so carefully focused on his work. 

Crowley sighed and let himself slip deeper into the sensations. His muscles relaxed a bit, limbs slumped against his bindings, changing pressure more than position. The blessings on his skin were leading him to a nice fuzzy submissive feeling, and the rhythmic susurrations of angel hands on holy ropes lulled him into a soft, meditative trance.

He didn’t notice when Aziraphale tied off the last knot and switched to light touches along the remaining exposed skin. He floated in his own peaceful, eternal moment, where he was safe and comfortable, and most importantly, _loved_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 The next day he found that, indeed, miracling himself away would leave his tied hand behind. He thoroughly confused Aziraphale with his reaction to this discovery, which was primarily waving about his bloody stump while dramatically shouting “No! That’s not true! That’s impossible!” before collapsing into a fit of giggles. [return to text]


	3. Kindness

Aziraphale stared at his captive demon, amazed by the peaceful look on his face. His head had rolled back and come to rest on his folded wings, fangs peeking out of his partially-open mouth. So beautiful, and so trusting. 

The angel took his time, admiring his work from all angles as he circled the chair. He dragged his fingers across naked flesh, eliciting small contented noises but not rousing the demon from his reverie. Eventually, he made his way to Crowley’s vulva, the one part of him left completely uncovered. 

“Lovely,” he breathed, and that’s all it took for the exposed vagina to gape and fresh wetness to appear. 

He sipped at his wine, contemplating what to do next. He had planned to make a big show out of the “captured demon” in order to wring some humility out of him, but Crowley had taken his breath away with his display earlier, so he saw no need to emphasize it further. After a few moments of deliberation, he settled on kindness next.

The brief loss of contact was enough to rouse his partner, and Crowley blinked at him snakishly, all expectant adoration. This devoted demon, untroubled by his confinement, happily helpless at the hands of an angel - what had Aziraphale ever done to deserve such a gift?

He strolled nearer and held his wine glass to Crowley’s lips, gently tipping it just enough for him to sip. Crowley accepted the drink gratefully, never breaking eye contact with his captor. When Aziraphale pulled the glass back, they shared the taste in a sweet, too-short kiss. 

Crowley whined in response. “ _More._ ”

“More wine, or more kissing?” Aziraphale was genuinely curious.

“Both.” The mischievous grin was back. 

“Aren’t you a demanding little thing.” His tone was light, affectionate. “Can you at least be polite about it?” 

“Fine.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “More, _please._ "

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Aziraphale raised the glass to his mouth again, offering him the remainder. He placed a hand on the back of Crowley’s head possessively and slid fingers through his hair. When his demon was finished, he gently pulled, tilting his face upward for another kiss, but stopping just short of connecting.

Crowley’s eyebrows crashed together expressively. “Thank you?” he whispered, unsure but willing to give it a try.

“That’s my good boy.” Aziraphale kissed him lightly. “So polite...when you want something.” He peppered kisses along the gaps between the ropes on Crowley’s neck and shoulder. “I wonder if you can be good without ulterior motives.”

“Impossible,” was his smartass reply. “I always want you."

* * *

Aziraphale kept murmuring between kisses as he worked his way down Crowley’s bound body, but he had long since stopped paying attention. He was too caught up in the sensations of hot breaths and soft lips, the tug and pull of ropes, the searing arousal building in his groin. He would have been desperately humping the air by now if the bindings on his hips weren’t keeping him firmly in place. 

A lock of hair fell into his eyes. He tossed his head to clear it, but it stuck to his damp forehead and remained stubbornly in place. Sneaking a tiny miracle wouldn’t be too bad, he figured, and Aziraphale was too busy lapping at his nipples to notice. He softly rubbed his middle finger on his thumb in a silent snap.

Nothing happened. 

He tried again, this time blowing upwards at the offending strands of hair, but they only fluttered. He reached out metaphysically, trying to find something to grasp on to, but all he could feel was the fuzzy disorientation of the blessed ropes pressing in on his senses. 

He’d been so enthralled by the process of getting tied up that he hadn’t even noticed when his powers had dissolved into nothing. The very first shiver of fear went up his back. It took a lot for him to feel truly helpless, and his angel had managed it so seamlessly that he’d welcomed it with open arms. Fuck, he’d practically begged for it. For all their playacting at being adversaries, this was the first time he’d actually been at Aziraphale’s mercy. It terrified him how much he loved it. [1]

The angel ended his descending series of kisses with a long lick across his vagina, drawing forth an embarrassingly high-pitched moan. 

Aziraphale chuckled. “Always so eloquent, aren’t you?” His lips nuzzled the folds as he spoke, promising stimulation but not yet delivering.

“We’re not here to talk, angel,” Crowley growled back. He was all for some teasing, but this was getting ridiculous. His mouth was _right there._

“How about you keep talking, and I find…other things…to do with my mouth?” Aziraphale punctuated that with his tongue on the clit, eliciting another small gasp.

“Ok, sure.” He probably would have run his mouth anyway, so this was just an added bonus. “That feels amazing. Keep doing that.”

Aziraphale did not, in fact, keep doing that. Instead, he moved to tease his labia and taste his arousal. It felt tender and sweet, but not particularly stimulating, so Crowley had no trouble continuing his narration.

“Ohhh yes taste me I’m so wet for you,” he moaned, channelling every cheesy porno he’d ever seen. Aziraphale seemed unmoved, but he kept going anyway. “Look what you do to me, I’m so horny. I need you to fill me up with your cock.” 

He wasn’t exactly sure if this was what Aziraphale wanted, since he seemed to be getting zero feedback. The angel just kept methodically licking all around his most sensitive spots in a sweet but ultimately supremely frustrating manner.

“I love your cock it’s so big and it fills me up so oh ohhh ohhhhhhhh…” Aziraphale finally moved his attention to the clit, interrupting Crowley’s sentence and entire train of thought with sharp pangs of arousal. Apparently he liked getting his cock complimented. The friction lasted only a moment before he was back to long gentle licks with the flat of his tongue, so Crowley decided to try again.

“It’s so soft and perfect, I love the way it feels inside my mouth…” He gasped with pleasure as again Aziraphale assaulted his clit with firm, precise strokes. “I love watching it get stiff, knowing it’s all for me.” Aziraphale hesitated, so Crowley plowed forward with his litany of praise. “Not just your cock, but all of you, you love me with every bit of yourself and it’s too much but you do it anyway and I have no idea why because you’re perfect and I’m so very _not_ and you could have anyone I mean really with an ass like that and so cute and so caring and I don’t deserve any of this…”

Crowley whimpered as his partner pulled away. Aziraphale's face was glistening wet, eyes full of concern. “How can you be so kind to me and so awful to yourself in the same breath?” he asked.

Crowley did not have enough freedom of movement to shrug, but managed to communicate it anyway.

“Try saying something kind about yourself.”

Crowley hesitated a moment before summoning up his most roguish grin with a twist of his head and mischief in his eyes. “I’m - “ 

A very wet finger on his lips stopped him short. “Something sincere, if you please,” the angel admonished. His voice was stern, but his eyes were soft. He gently tucked the errant lock of hair behind Crowley’s ear before returning to his place between his legs.

Crowley licked his lips nervously, tasting his own juices. He wasn’t sure exactly what Aziraphale wanted to hear. He was good at quite a lot of things - temptations, minor misfortunes, general wickedness - but he didn’t think the angel would consider them kind things to say. But after a moment, he had something. 

“I- I can make you laugh.” 

Aziraphale beamed at him, and ground his thumb into his clit. “Oh, very good! Yes, you do make me laugh, my dear, every single day. And I love you for it. You are quite the charmer.” Crowley’s eyes rolled back in his head as the waves of pleasure and praise washed over him ( _Tell me again, angel. Tell me that you like me._ ). 

Aziraphale slowed his movements long before Crowley reached the edge. “What else?” he prompted. 

“I give good gifts.” Aziraphale responded with even more enthusiasm this time, with increased friction and effusive praise.

“I understand what people want, deep down.” Crowley was worried this was too much like temptation, but it didn’t seem to matter to Aziraphale, who had somehow maneuvered his thumb to rub under the clitoral hood. It sent electric sparks of pleasure up Crowley’s spine. His breaths were coming short and ragged now as arousal threatened to take over, and he tried to squeeze out a few more self-compliments before he was completely lost. 

“I have _fantastic_ style…I’m persistent...I’m great at lying…wait no that’s not a good one…” Little pants and moans were sneaking out between each phrase now, as Aziraphale increased his tempo. “I never ever lie to you, angel. That is … I’m actually proud of that.” It felt weird to be this sincere and this aroused at the same time, but he didn’t have any brain power left to devote to considering it.

Aziraphale was expressing a similar contradiction in response, his fingers now thrusting in and out of Crowley’s vagina with lewd squelching sounds, but his face was practically glowing with pure holiness. “Oh, my love I’m proud of you, too. You are so good to me.”

He propped himself up on the armrest with his free hand, bringing his cheek to rest on on Crowley’s. It was still slick, cool on the demon's flushed skin. “My sweet darling boy, I love hearing your kindness, and no one deserves it more than yourself.”

The prolonged arousal was wearing down Crowley’s natural defenses, and his partner’s words were stirring up much more emotion than they should have. He wasn’t _kind_ and didn’t _deserve_ kindness, but he found that he was willing to accept it from Aziraphale regardless. In fact, if he could just lie back and listen to Aziraphale talk to him like this for hours, he would be happy. And if he could make his angel happy by saying kind things, well, that would probably be alright too. 

But the kindest thing right now would be for that bloody angel to let him _come already._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 He would later learn that his safety-conscious angel had arranged for the blessings to wear off within a few hours.  [ return to text ]


	4. Temperance

The kindness exercise had taken an unexpected turn into self-depreciation, but Aziraphale was happy with how it had turned out in the end. For all Crowley’s swagger, his pridefulness was typically just a thin veneer on frantic self-loathing. As someone who was both made of kindness and madly in love with him, Aziraphale felt that he was in a unique position to help. 

But now that Crowley was warmed up and whining pitifully, it was time to stop being nice. He turned his attentions once again to Crowley’s clit, avoiding the tip for now and instead muddling the base into his pubic bone. This resulted in a string of incoherent yet strangely melodic noises. He loved how he could play Crowley like a virtuoso, expressively and with impeccable technique.

“You can beg, if you like,” he offered kindly, with a hint of steel. “But it won’t change anything. I have a plan for you tonight, little one, and no amount of pleading will alter it.” With this, his voice dropped to a growl, prompting rivulets of arousal to flood the upholstery.

He hoped Crowley would decide to beg anyway. He loved hearing his demon come undone, reveling in his desperation, his needing, the agonizing frustration. For all his angelic nature, he truly could be a bit of a bastard sometimes. 

The bastardtry would often come out when he denied Crowley, telling him _no, not yet, your orgasms are mine and I will decide when and how_. But right now that was unnecessary. Unable to move, Crowley was completely at his mercy. It wasn’t about permission, it was about what Aziraphale chose to give.

At that moment, he chose to give his attention to Crowley’s nipples, sucking and biting recklessly. He intentionally left marks on the pale skin, souvenirs to be cherished in the morning. Meanwhile, he used his hand to slowly guide Crowley up the foothills of ecstasy and back again, crescendo and decrescendo.

Crowley didn’t seem quite ready to beg verbally, but his vagina was doing it for him. It had started pulsing now, dripping wantonly and audibly opening, inviting Aziraphale to return his fingers. Legs trembling in his restraints and toes curling wildly, it seemed for a moment like he was going to tip over the edge into his first orgasm of the night, so Aziraphale stopped all stimulation. He pulled away, lightly covering his entire vulva with his hand.

Crowley tried fruitlessly to buck his hips into his angel’s hand, seeking warmth and friction, but the ropes held him still. “Fucking hell you cruel malicious _beast,”_ he snarled. “Just— just— gaaa ha— little more…”

“I think that’s plenty for now.” 

“Fuck you.”

“You too, dearest.” Aziraphale kissed him playfully on the nose before removing his hand entirely.

* * *

Crowley didn’t even really know what he was saying, just that it was rude. It was the only channel he had for all his disappointment and desire and frustration and embarrassment, and he was going to express himself fully, damnit.

Aziraphale had returned with a buzzy toy and redoubled his assault on his clit, sending electric bolts of pleasure arcing up Crowley’s body. His muscles contracted under his bindings, straining and pulling. He could feel his legs trying to twist in their hip sockets, stymied by the arms of the chair, and even through his haze of frustration he was touched by how Aziraphale knew his reactions well enough to plan this particularly restrictive position. 

Crowley really should have known better than to hope that he would be allowed an orgasm anytime soon, but he’d never been good at denying himself hope. As he strained against the edge again and again, he had almost convinced himself that the angel would show mercy. He felt like a little kid on a swing set, convinced with each ascent that _this time_ he’d go flying over the bar in a full rotation of eternal glory.

He was very wrong.

He had no idea how long that bastard kept him suspended in the static between arousal and climax, but it felt about ten years longer than he could stand. “For the love of all that is unholy angel you can’t keep me like this I will discorporate and it will be _all your fault,_ ” he wailed. 

Aziraphale chuckled softly. “Why would I do anything for you when you’re being so rude to me?” 

He wasn’t wrong. Between gasps and pants Crowley had been shouting a litany of creative insults at him, including _shitmonger_ and _cuntnugget_ and _青蛙操的流氓_ [1]. His only reply now, though, was a whimper. 

He removed his hand entirely, leaving behind a chilly emptiness that was somehow worse than the desperate edge. “Do you want me to continue?” 

“Yes, please.” Crowley tried to sound properly chastised, but it came out all breathy and ragged anyway.

“Can you be good?” Azirphale seemed doubtful about his ability. He nodded vigorously, not trusting his voice anymore.

The wicked angel returned a single finger, which he used to scoop some liquid and drag it toward the clitoris, rubbing wide slick circles around it. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was better than being neglected and throbbing.

Crowley tried to collect himself. He had agreed to be good, but he couldn’t actually think about anything other than what was happening between his legs. After several long moments, he remembered the exercise from earlier. 

“Thank you.” He gasped, the trite platitude sounding thoroughly debauched.

“For what?” Two fingers now, moving in tandem around his sweet spot. 

“For…for…” He struggled for words as arousal once more flooded his brain. “For touching me.”

“That’s my good boy.” Aziraphale said proudly. The compliment would have sounded patronizing in any other context, but in this moment it was sunlight directly on Crowley's soul. To hear the angel say it ( _Tell me,_ _angel. Tell me I’m yours and I’m good and you’re pleased with me_.) was exactly what he needed, almost even more than release. Almost.

“Keep going.” Aziraphale prompted, as he gradually increased the intensity of his touches. “Tell me how good this is for you.” And Crowley did. He started off fairly coherently, listing off exactly what he liked, but quickly devolved into babbling as arousal took hold and mercilessly drove him closer and closer to climax.

And then again the angel stopped, cruelly just short of relief. Crowley wisely snapped his mouth shut before he could loose more insults to his partner’s character.

“Keep talking,” He prompted again, and Crowley had to suppress a growl. It was all he could do to keep the curses silent. There’s no way he could open his mouth and still be nice. No way he could spin this exquisite torture into something positive. 

“Come on, I know you can do it. Tell me how much you like this.”

“Okay, fine, yes, I like this.” He bit out between ragged gasps. It was true but that didn’t make it easier to admit.

“So what do you say?” The angel's tone was almost mocking now.

“Please? Pleasepleasepleaseplease _please”_ Crowley could do this part. Desperation had erased all of his previous hesitation. He was so _ready._

His begging was sharply interrupted by a strong flick to his clit, the spike of pain clashing with the high of arousal. “Ow! What was that for?” He cried indignantly. 

“I thought you were going to be good for me.” Aziraphale replied, the kindness in his voice contrasting with how much he was obviously enjoying these cruel torments. “I gave you what you wanted and you didn't even thank me before begging for more. You greedy little thing.” 

“Okay, thank you.” Crowley replied eagerly, and not particularly sincerely.

“For what?” 

“For touching me. For touching my clit.” 

_Flick._

“Oww!” The pain was more intense the second time, especially now that the arousal was wearing off.

“Nope. Try again.” 

“What?” This was new. “Okay, um, for getting me close?”

 _Flick._ Goddamn it.

“Closer. You want to try again?” He scrunched his eyes shut as he realized where the angel was going with this. That fucker.

“For not letting me come.” He sighed, defeated.

“Say it properly, love.” 

Crowley gritted his teeth and tried to suppress the anger in his voice. “Thank you for not letting me come.” 

“There you go.” Aziraphale purred, moving his hand up to tousle the demon's pubic hair. “I knew you could be good for me.” 

He stretched his arms up Crowley's body, sliding up the ropes and thumbing his nipples. “Now that I know how sweet you can be, I want to do it again. And this time, instead of cursing me, you’re going to thank me...” He smiled wickedly. “... _nicely.”_

Crowley's eyes widened with legitimate fear, although his vagina betrayed him with a squelch. He wasn’t sure he could actually do that. Staying silent was one thing, but actually thanking him in the moment of denial? He didn’t think he could even get the words out past the anger and frustration and screaming _need_ that rushed up in that moment of freefall. He wasn’t afraid of punishment - Aziraphale’s attempts at pain play paled in comparison to previous hellish experiences. No, he was afraid of failing. Of disappointing him. Of not being able to please him. 

So if this is what he wanted - to see Crowley debase himself, to participate in his own torture, to politely embrace his merciless denial, then that’s what he would do. Crowley set his jaw and nodded.

The bastard angel pressed hard on Crowley's swollen, aching clit, rubbing furiously. It drew the arousal out of him so quickly that he hardly had time to take an unnecessary breath before the edge was approaching again. The pleasure seared his brain and he barely heard the infernal screeching noises he was making. Knowing ahead of time that he wasn’t going to come did nothing to ease the crash of disappointment when the angel suddenly removed his hand. Crowley's vagina grasped futilely at the empty air and he let out a _howl_ of frustration. He wanted to slam his fists into breakable objects, but they were still tied securely to the chair.

“Did you have something you wanted to say?” Aziraphale asked sweetly.

“Thank you,” He could barely force the words out around his forked tongue. “For not letting me come.” Surely Aziraphale could still hear the venom in his voice, but he just grinned proudly and wrapped his arms around him. 

“My darling boy. My precious demon. You’re so beautiful when you’re desperate.” His praise washed over Crowley, easing the sting of embarrassment at what he'd just done. He stroked his hair tenderly. “I love how much you _need_ me. How you do everything I ask. You’re strong and brave and you make me so very happy.” At this point it didn’t even really matter what he said, Crowley was just thrilled that he was so pleased.

“Now, my love,” Aziraphale whispered sweetly in his ear. “Shall we do that again?”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 _Frog-humping son of a bitch_ , Mandarin. [ return to text ]


	5. Chastity

Aziraphale was very glad he had soundproofed the bedroom. Their cottage wasn’t particularly near any of their neighbors, but anyone walking by would likely have been concerned by the inhuman shrieking that was currently occurring. It sounded like a horror movie produced by a porn director, or perhaps the other way around.

He had edged Crowley until the poor demon could barely speak, his incoherent mewling interrupted only by small, obedient expressions of thanks. By the end, he had almost meant it.

Now it was time to finally give him what he wanted. “Are you ready, my love?” He had done so well, Aziraphale felt more than happy to reward him. “Would you like to come?”

Crowley just stared at him, eyes glassy. He hesitated a long moment, his face unreadable. 

“No.” 

That was rather unexpected. Aziraphale took a steadying breath, hastily erasing and rearranging his plans in his mind. Tucked away in the aether, his notes adjusted accordingly.

“And why not?”

“You said…” The words seemed to be fighting their way out of Crowley’s mouth, arriving a bit flushed and breathless. “...you said you liked me like this...”

Oh, heavens above, Aziraphale truly did. He liked watching him writhe and squirm under the knots, flush spreading from his face until his entire body was pink with desire. Liked watching the scales bloom on his skin as he lost control, surrendering to the pleasure. Liked experimenting with sensations, cataloguing every delicious response for later use and abuse. 

But most of all, he loved how a simple touch, a single word, could unravel him so completely. 

“Oh, Crowley, I _love_ you like this. So desperate, so helpless, so needy.” Crowley punctuated each phrase with a whine. “Of course I will deny you again.”

It didn’t take much to nudge the demon to the edge yet again. He paused just shy of release, feeling Crowley’s clit throbbing through the pad of his thumb. The conflicting desires washed over his partner’s face, expressive and unguarded now. And Aziraphale was the cause of it all, pushing and pulling at his emotions, playing both earth and moon.

“You are exquisite,” he breathed, gently stroking sweat off of Crowley’s brow. He could spend eternity in this moment, his open adoration meeting Crowley’s unbridled devotion. Was it worship when it felt the opposite of heavenly? He didn’t know.

With each cycle of arousal, frustration, and praise, Crowley asked to be denied, again and again. Aziraphale was impressed that the lesson on chastity had been so successful, but his own patience was giving out.

“Yessss...again, angel…” Crowley begged between full-body shudders. 

Aziraphle drew himself up to eye level and roughly gripped his demon’s chin, tipping his face to make eye contact. “No,” he growled, low and menacing. “You are _mine._ I decide when you come.” His words resonated with angelic power, both adding to the drama and lending Crowley some miraculous stamina. “No more delays, little fiend.”

Without giving him a moment of recovery, Aziraphale renewed his frenzied attack on his overstimulated clitoris, his other fingers thrusting wildly inside him. They reached the edge almost immediately, and as he pushed forward, he could see something inside his bound partner snap. Crowley’s entire body tensed, straining against itself. His face froze in a silent scream, all breathing stilled. The only movement was the shuddering tremble of overtaxed muscles and Aziraphale’s continued ministrations. 

The moment pulled thin, stretching a turgid tension until the silence finally shattered into frantic gasps and flailing fingers. Aziraphale lessened the pressure and basked in the smile now slowly spreading across Crowley’s face. He didn’t get to see these smiles often - not the usual ones that would express a mixture of a thousand different feelings at once, often with a heavy dose of sarcasm - but those perfect, private smiles that reflected the radiant purity of unfettered happiness. What a joy to behold! And what a gift, to be the reason.

“More?” he asked teasingly.

“Yes,” Crowley responded. “Thank you.” 

Aziraphale’s delighted smile veered into a smug look of self-satisfaction as he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of his work. The unruly, churlish demon now bound and tamed: calm, happy, and expressing sincere gratitude. He would call it a miracle, if he weren't so familiar with how mundane miracles could be.

He kissed Crowley gently on his forehead and moved behind the chair. “I’ll be back in a tick.”

“So, uh...I’ll just wait for you here then?” Aziraphale could hear the sardonic grin in Crowley's voice, and couldn’t help but playfully bat at the back of his head as he returned with more toys.


	6. Diligence and Charity

He’d made it. He’d endured all of Aziraphale’s delays and denials and finally, _finally_ he was able to achieve some resolution and relief. A vibrator happily buzzing away downstairs promised many more moments of ecstasy, and the accompanying dildo resonated in a deeply pleasant way.

He sighed happily and cracked open his eyes. Aziraphale was standing proudly in front of him, his top half completely unruffled, his bottom half wearing only a magnificent erection. Crowley couldn’t help but laugh joyously at the absurdity of it all. A powerless, trussed-up demon held in thrall by whirring mechanics, a half-naked angel sporting a velvet waistcoat and a truly enormous cock - what a picture! He wished he could frame it.

Aziraphale tried his best to saunter over, he really did. He had noticed the way Crowley was blatantly staring, and seemed to be enjoying the attention. But his sassy little walk was adorable in its own way, and it did swing that glorious cock back and forth enticingly. He climbed up onto the armrests, which seemed sturdier now than they were earlier in the evening. The sides of his asscheeks nestled between Crowley’s knees, and the tip of his cock rested on his lower lip. Crowley flicked out his tongue and caught a taste of salty precum.

It was completely forked now, and he probably had scales all over his skin, but he didn’t care. His angel had seen him at his most slithery, his most demonic, his most _evil_ , and yet here they still were, playing together, two fools in love. A few scales wouldn’t change anything at all. He fluttered his serpentine tongue along the underside of the angelic shaft and took the tip into his mouth, careful to avoid his now-prominent fangs.

Aziraphale slid his fingers into his sweat-damp hair, scratching his scalp and adjusting the angle to his liking. “I’d like to come next, if you don’t mind.”

Crowley hummed happily in reply. The rest of his mouth was quite busy. Aziraphale’s skin was warm and pliant on his tongue, softly dragging across the roof of his mouth. It was luxuriously full, but his jaw remembered its time as a snake and had no problem accommodating the angel’s girth. Unfortunately, his teeth remembered as well. 

Crowley pulled back as much as he could, and Aziraphale matched him, allowing him freedom to speak again. “Help a demon out here?” he asked, flashing his fangs.

The angel smiled and ran a thumb over his upper lip. He felt his teeth return to their more human configuration as he kissed the finger pad. The exchange really should have felt uncomfortable, mortifying even - needing an angel’s help to keep his own corporation in check! - but instead it just felt tender and inconsequential. Like he had simply brushed away some errant crumbs, rather than a sign of Crowley’s eternal damnation.

Those musings dissolved quickly, however, as Aziraphale’s cock returned to its rightful place. He took his time, for his own pleasure, certainly, but also as a little bit of revenge for earlier delays. The angel could learn a little patience, himself. 

But Aziraphale didn’t seem to be in any rush, and the vibrator was set fairly low, so there was time to savor him. Crowley extended his neck, taking more into his throat. He rocked his head in time with gentle thrusts, getting into a rhythm, grateful he didn’t actually need to breathe. He could feel his vagina squeezing in counterpoint, and before long, the aftershocks of his first orgasm had turned into the buildup for his second.

He reveled in the feeling, his muscles contracting on their own, anticipating the freedom of another release. He sucked harder, running his tongue up the angels’s shaft. His nose was buried in white-gold hair, and he breathed in the angel’s scent greedily whenever his airway was free. His entire body was humming with joy, and he let the sensations wash over him in hazy bliss. 

Out of nowhere, Aziraphale firmly grasped his hair, pulling almost painfully. A single, aggressive thrust nearly tipped him over into climax yet again. He’d have to pay a bit more attention to make sure the angel came first. He worked diligently at his task, flicking his tongue over the most sensitive spots, alternating between slow, deep strokes and shallow ones, soft caresses and aggressive suction. Aziraphale’s erection was straining at his skin, but still no release came.

About the third time Crowley had to forcibly relax himself away from the edge, he realized what the game was. That pious scoundrel was holding himself back, forcing him to edge himself against the toys, even when he was able to come - just to watch him struggle. The sadistic little bastard.

Crowley was so in love with him it hurt.

The next edge hit him hard and fast, and he had to pull away from Aziraphale to breathe through it. The rude hand gestures also helped, even though the angel couldn’t see them. Once the danger had passed, he redoubled his efforts, determined to give the best goddamned blowjob in the universe, just to not have to shudder his way through another desperate edge. 

Aziraphale’s fingers were in his hair again, twisting and tugging, and Crowley matched his pace. He swallowed hard around each thrust, frantically pressing and licking and sucking each stroke, until finally, _finally_ , the angel’s hips began the stuttering, erratic motions that heralded climax. 

The angel’s cum filled his mouth and he swallowed it quickly, not wanting any to overflow. The holiness of it stung, but it tasted of joy. He savored it, this little bit of his angel he got to keep for himself. His mental barriers slipped and suddenly he was coming, too, each sip of Aziraphale fueling his own pleasure until they both were spent.

“Thank you, darling.” Crowley’s face was pressed against his hip, but he could _hear_ the angel’s radiant smile. “You have a few more in you, I’m sure.”

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the vibrator switched to a more intense setting, forcibly drawing a third from him almost immediately. This one was longer, more powerful, more overwhelming. He clutched at the dildo still pressed up inside him. It was like all the orgasms he had denied himself had eagerly awaited this moment, and all fell upon him at once. He could barely hold on to his corporation. 

The feelings subsided, but only for a moment, as Aziraphale changed his tactics. Now the vibrator was low and the dildo thrusting. He let out a deep, powerful moan as orgasm took him yet again. His whole body shook wildly, toes gripping at the cushion, seeking some small measure of stability. _This_ was the release he’d been building up to all night, one that opened the floodgates and gushed out from around the toy. 

In his moments of lucidity, he continued worshipping Aziraphale’s cock, no longer worried about bringing him to orgasm. He simply drifted from pleasure to pleasure. The orgasms were coming in waves now, buoying him up every time he felt like he might be coming down from the high. 

He no longer felt desire or need, in fact, he didn’t hold on to any feelings at all. The pleasure was flowing through him unhindered, forming a loop of endless bliss, the lines between arousal and climax washed away. His body was moving without him, all coherent thoughts abandoned for wild imagery and trance-like euphoria.

At some point, Aziraphale slid off of him, snuggling up between his legs and replacing the dildo with his own member. He grasped at Crowley’s body greedily, possessively, pulling on the ropes and pushing ever deeper with increasingly aggressive thrusts. His penis seemed even bigger now, stretching Crowley’s vaginal muscles and pummeling his g-spot, leading to a series of deeper, more internal but no less thrilling, orgasms. He let his head fall onto the angel’s chest in surrender.

He kept coming until his frazzled nerves crackled with electric overstimulation, his entire body raw and throbbing. Without his infernal magic, he was powerless to stop his body’s reactions as it shuddered through orgasm after orgasm. This was its own unique torment, pushing his corporation past its limits into a place where pleasure was indistinguishable from pain, where the need for _more_ perfectly balanced the need to stop.

He tried to catch hold of the words, to decide whether to beg for more or beg for mercy. But he was already at his angel’s mercy: helpless, powerless, held captive in this exquisite inbetween. There was nothing left for him to say, no decisions remaining, nothing left of _him_ at all. Every boundary that defined him was washed away, surrendered into true selflessness. There was only Aziraphale. There was only _ever_ Aziraphale, surrounding him, claiming him, writing names on his skin and carving the truth into his bones:

    

_You are loved._

  


_You are mine._

  


_You are good._


	7. Epilogue

Crowley came back to himself slowly, in stages. It began as a general sense of cozy well-being, gradually coalesced into the realization that he was curled up in bed, and eventually he could identify that he was wrapped up in soft blankets and angel arms. Aziraphale was radiating love and acceptance, murmuring sweetness into his ear and gently stroking his hair.

He felt wrung out and exhausted, but pleasantly so, like a kid falling asleep in the car after a frenzied birthday party. He nuzzled Aziraphale and kissed the closest patch of skin. The angel relaxed into his touch, and Crowley could feel the trust that wrapped around them, almost a tangible thing, holding them secure and bound together.

“Thank you,” he whispered into Aziraphale’s chest. “I think I needed that.” The angel responded with a soft laugh that gently shook his head from its resting place. He looked up to find his partner practically glowing with adoration, but with a smile that hinted of smug satisfaction.

He lay his head back down and let his eyes flutter closed, peaceful and at rest in the arms of his angel.


End file.
